


Euphoric

by Gem_Gem



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempt at humour, Crack, Drugged Kisses, Drugged Sherlock, Fluff and Crack, Forced kisses, Frustrated John, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Not really slash but could definitely be seen as slash, Sharing a Bed, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Silly, Silly Sherlock, Slash Goggles, Teasing John, cheek kisses, slight OOC Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4293783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is jabbed with a strange new drug, and it makes him extremely affectionate and truthful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ...I don't know what this is. Just a short little fic that popped into my head one night and wouldn't leave until I wrote it down.
> 
> I thought to post it just to share it...it makes me giggle, so I hope it makes you giggle too!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> * Might get rid of it later, not sure...

“You know, you’re very handsome,” Sherlock murmured in a rough and rumbling slur as John half-carried him through the flat and into Sherlock’s bedroom, dropping him on the bed with a grunt and bending to yank off Sherlock’s shoes.

“Thank you,” John replied distantly, pulling off Sherlock’s coat and scarf and then tipping Sherlock’s lolling head to check his pupils and his pulse, frowning in concern.

“In the homely, everyday, ordinary kind of way,” Sherlock continued, smiling wonkily at John and swaying.

John paused and shot Sherlock a look, “…Thanks a lot,” he muttered sarcastically, unbuttoning Sherlock shirt to drag it down one shoulder and inspect the needle mark with a narrowed and examining gaze. “We might have to take you to the emergency room. I have no idea what they gave you or if the needle was sterile—God, I don’t know why I haven’t taken you there already.” 

“I told you not to,” Sherlock answered with a snort, peering down at the bruise on his skin and then chuckling. “It’s nothing. I’ve had worse, much worse. They didn’t give me the entire dosage. It’ll wear off without any permanent damage. I have one in my coat pocket if you want to check? I nabbed it before they caught me.” 

John rummaged through the pockets and brought out the drug with a sigh, checking the label and then checking it again with a frown, “Sherlock…this--”

“You have great body structure for someone so short,” Sherlock interrupted, one of his hands smoothing up John’s back. “And you smell good.”

“What?” John asked, swatting Sherlock’s hand away as he turned to face him. “Sherlock, for goodness sake, this drug is the King of drugs! It’s as if they chucked all existing drugs into a vat and mixed them altogether! You need to go to the hospital!”

Sherlock pulled a face and pushed to his feet in a languid, boneless arch that made John step back with raised eyebrows, “I didn’t get it all. I made sure of it--”

“You what?”

“I knew they were going to use it as a makeshift weapon, knew the quantity they were going to inject me with would be lethal, so I made sure that they didn’t get chance to,” Sherlock explained with a flapping of his long fingered hands. “If I had been injected with it all, I wouldn’t be this focused, in fact, I’d probably be in a coma or dead. Now, stop talking so much and kiss me.”

John gaped at him, blinked, took another step backwards, and spluttered in disbelief, “What?”

Sherlock growled and swiped for him loosely, “Stop saying what!”

“Sherlock, sit back down,” John told him, knocking away Sherlock’s failing arms and putting the drug down to grab his shoulders and shove him back onto the bed. “Sit.”

“I want to kiss you,” Sherlock mumbled, caging John’s face in his hands. “I like your mouth. It’s funny. Did you know that you purse your lips a lot? When you’re angry, when you’re thinking, when you’re reading, when you’re typing, when you’re stifling a smile--”

“Sherlock, let go,” John sighed, grabbing Sherlock’s wrists and pulling him away. “You’re high.”

Sherlock nodded with a crease of his mouth, “Yes. Amazing. Very well deduced, John. Now, come here.”

“No,” John scowled, pushing Sherlock back when he leaned forwards. “Sherlock, stop. Think about what you’re doing. You don’t want to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” Sherlock countered, grabbing for John again, fingers pressing roughly to maintain contact. “Just let me kiss you. Just one kiss, just one! What harm could it do? I just want to kiss you, John!” 

“No,” John grumbled, stumbling back into the wall when Sherlock followed him up and across the room. “Sherlock, no! You’re not thinking straight—get off, Sherlock!”

Sherlock pressed into John heavily and smiled with a dopey sort of expression, biting down on his lower lip with amusement as he squirmed to keep hold of John’s face, “Just one, John. Come one, you’ve thought about it more than once, I know you have. I’ve seen you staring, John. I’ve seen you. I always see you.”

“No! No, I don’t want that, Sherlock,” John mumbled, not wanting to hurt Sherlock in his drugged state but unable to stop himself from bending some of Sherlock’s fingers backwards. “Let go.” 

“One kiss,” Sherlock huffed, ducking his head and butting noses with John before angling his head and pushing their mouths together without permission, trailing after John as he jerked his head aside to disconnect their lips. “Friends kiss, you know. I’ve seen it.”

“Not on the lips, Sherlock,” John sighed, turning his head to and fro to escape and shoving on Sherlock’s chest.

Sherlock frowned and then tilted his head thoughtfully before conceding with a long exhale, kissing John’s cheek with immense affection, “Better?” he said against the stubble on John’s face.

John failed to stop the bubble of laughter, and to appease Sherlock in his state, shrugged and nodded, “Yeah.”

Sherlock beamed and kissed him again, then again, and again, pushing his mouth fondly to John’s temple, chin, and cheek over and over with delight, “I’d be lost without you, you know,” he whispered between kisses. “You complete me in so many ways. You’re my morality and my heart and my blogger and my friend and my family.”

“Yeah…um, yeah, you too,” John replied softly with a flush, not knowing exactly how to respond to Sherlock’s passé babbling. “Come off it now. You said one kiss.”

“I love you, John,” Sherlock said contentedly when he pulled back with a wide and innocent smile, eyes dilated and glassy with the drug but dancing in warmth. “I know I don’t say it—have never said it, in fact, but I do.”

John smiled in return, clearing his throat and patting Sherlock’s shoulder, “Yeah, I know, Sherlock. I love you too, mate,” he said with a sigh, eyeing the drug again with a frown. “How much of it did you actually get? I wouldn’t think it would make you act this way, even getting such a small amount…”

“Hm?” Sherlock hummed before waving a flippant hand. “Oh, not much at all. I made sure of it.”

“Yes, you said,” John told him, looking at Sherlock closely. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Sherlock grinned, gripping John’s coat collar and pulling him close to nuzzle. “Like I’m drunk and high all at once.”

John nodded, “Right. Well, let’s get you to bed, shall we?” he smiled, moving Sherlock back and pushing him under the bed covers. “Sherlock, let go of me…”

“Sleep with me,” Sherlock beseeched, tugging until John slipped out of his coat with a frustrated exhale. “You need to sleep too, and this way you’ll be able to keep a close eye on me.”

“No, Sherlock,” John said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I need to get in touch with Lestrade, tell him what we saw tonight and--”

“Later, John. They would have moved locations by now, anyway. Come to bed with me,” Sherlock implored, swinging out an arm to fumblingly grasp at John, missing him by inches and then lunging to grip John’s hand. “Friends share beds, you know.”

John gave him a withering look but kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed with him, trying not to think too much on what the bloody hell he was doing. Sherlock pressed to him almost instantly and stared at John with a broad smile until John frowned and shuffled back, feeling immensely uncomfortable.

“I like your face,” Sherlock whispered, and traced the crease between John’s eyebrows with one finger. “You know, you’re very handsome…”

“Give me strength,” John muttered in exasperation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some wanted the morning after, so here it is! That as embarrassing as it could have been!

Sherlock stared down at a slumbering John with wide eyes, before he frowned deeply and touched his head, lifting the covers to glance between their clothed bodies in confusion. His shirt was half unbuttoned, why was his shirt half unbuttoned? Sherlock fiddled with the gaping sides of his shirt with light fingers and then looked, once again, at John; he was on his stomach, facing away from Sherlock, with one arm flung over the edge of the bed and the sheets tangled around his waist and legs. Obviously he had been overly warm during sleep, but who wouldn’t be wearing a jumper, jeans, and socks in bed?

His arm gave a slight throb and Sherlock uncovered it, poking at the bruise with a furrowed brow until he gasped and jerked his head up in recollection, the flood of memories crashing through his head like a mini, but violent, wave.

“Oh!” He exclaimed in a sharp breath, eyes wide and then shuttering with the twisting of his mouth. “…Oh. Oh…bugger.”

John snorted in his sleep and roughly rolled towards Sherlock, bouncing the bed as he fought with the bed sheets and kicked them so far down the mattress that they were yanked from Sherlock’s body completely. John’s face relaxed once he sank into his new position, his mouth slack and faintly parted, and Sherlock glanced at him and edged backwards, slowly, carefully, off the bed. He froze when John inhaled deeply and shifted again, but continued slipping awkwardly away when he calmed; Sherlock’s face was hot with a blush and he tried to ignore it, choosing instead to concentrate on distributing his weight so as to not jostle his sleeping friend.

He dived to the floor in a jumble of limbs when John grunted and rolled onto his side abruptly, and Sherlock winced as he hit his head on the bedside drawer on his way down. Scowling, he rubbed the sore spot and pushed up to his feet, huffing softly when he looked down at John, and then turning to leave the bedroom with as much dignity as he had left. 

Sherlock paused halfway out and leaned back, eyeing the drug vial with interest and reaching for it, eyeing the label with raised brows and a quirking smile.

“If you’re thinking about taking some more of that stuff, you can forget it,” John’s voice intoned, deep and gruff from sleep, and making Sherlock jump and stumble backwards into the bedroom. 

“I wasn’t going to take it,” Sherlock scoffed once he’d righted himself, avoiding eye contact with John in embarrassment. “I was…going to…carry out a few experiments on it…”

John pushed up off the bed and reached for his mobile, that he had put to the side sometime during the night, “Let me call Lestrade—Look, I already have a bunch of missed calls and texts from him.”

“But he’ll want to have it,” Sherlock complained, juggling the vial. “Just let me take half of it?”

“No,” John said sternly, walking around to stand beside him as he lifted his phone to his ear. “In fact, hand it over—Now, Sherlock!”

Sulkily, Sherlock dropped it into John’s awaiting palm and stormed out of the bedroom, sprawling out on the sofa, face first. He listened to John talking to Lestrade and sighed grumpily, sitting up only when John had finished and was walking over to him, gazing at the drug and shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you had some of this,” John muttered, glancing over at Sherlock with a twitching mouth, clearly remembering what Sherlock was like on the drug, and moving closer. “So…”

“Don’t,” Sherlock warned, flushing despite trying desperately not to.

“I like your face too, you know,” John said, conversationally, sitting beside Sherlock with a smile. “…Sometimes.”

Sherlock glanced at him sidelong, “…Thank you.”

“Do you remember everything you said and…did to me then?” John asked.

“Unfortunately,” Sherlock sighed.

John nodded and stifled a sudden laugh with a cough, “It’s not all bad. I mean I’m extremely flattered. I didn’t know you felt that way—”

“Shut up,” Sherlock grumbled, slumping down with his arms folded, noticing his shirt was still gaping open and quickly buttoning it with fumbling fingers.

“Lost without me, you said.”

“Shut it.”

John chuckled and looked immediately smug, “And you have an odd obsession with my mouth?”

Sherlock looked skyward with humiliation and frustration, “I do not have an…obsession. I merely noticed the amount of times that you would purse your lips a day—which you do an awful lot, by the by.”

“And that makes you want to kiss me?” John teased with a smirk.

“I was high on drugs, for goodness sake!” Sherlock said loudly, throwing his arms up and then snatching said drug out of John’s hands, leaning over to point out the ingredients. “Look, look at what was in my system! Even if it was just a smidgen, it’s still enough to make me completely incoherent and…and ridiculous!”

John glanced at it briefly, “So…you’re saying what you said and did were things you didn’t mean?”

Sherlock pressed his lips together and lifted his chin, “I’m just saying that—”

“Am I not your morality, your heart, your blogger, your friend, and family?” John said jokingly with an exaggerated sad expression. “Don’t you love me?”

“You’re not going to let me forget this, are you?” Sherlock grumbled, sitting back with a deep sigh, rolling the vial between his fingers.

“God no.” John giggled. 

“I didn’t force you into my bed, you know,” Sherlock tried sulkily, pulling his legs up self-consciously.

“You…kind of did,” John corrected, taking the vial back and then patting Sherlock’s knee with a broad smile. “But it’s okay because, apparently, friends share beds, you know.” 

Sherlock groaned in mortification and covered his face; falling aside on the sofa with his feet tucked against John’s thigh whilst John giggled heartily and tapped his side in hilarity, curling over him faintly until Lestrade arrived and he got up to talk to him, handing over the vial, as well as all the information that he and Sherlock had gathered.

Sherlock ignored them both and turned to face the back of the settee grumpily when Lestrade tried to engage him in conversation. John laughed and walked out of the room with Lestrade to continue their discussion, regaling everything but what Sherlock had said and done during the effects of the drug. After seeing Lestrade out, John then walked over and leaned heavily on Sherlock’s sides with his arms, staring down at Sherlock until he glanced up at him.

“Go away.”

John lifted his brows, “Oh. So you don’t want to do your own experiments on the drug then? Okay.”

“What?” Sherlock asked, sitting up when John stepped back.

“I talked Lestrade into letting you have a teeny, tiny, bit of it,” John told him, holding up one of Sherlock’s own corked vials. When had he gotten that?

Sherlock stood up to take it but John pulled it back, “What now?”

“Promise me that you won’t do anything…rash with it. Don’t take it—”

“Why would I take it?”

“—don’t give it to others, don’t coat anything that will be later used for food or drink with it, and if you find anything useful before Lestrade’s people do, which you probably might do, then promise that you’ll tell him, instead of holding onto the information like the smug arse you are and gloating and rushing into some kind of reckless plan, like you did last night, I might add.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes but nodded, “Fine. I promise.”

John eyed him for a long, debating moment, which was mostly done for show, and then handed it over with a grin, “Don’t I get a kiss?”

“Shut up!” Sherlock exclaimed in irritation, snatching the vial off him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do another chapter...I had to.
> 
> I'm sorry!

John didn’t let Sherlock forget his little drugged-out-of-his-mind antics and grinned broadly at Sherlock whilst he stirred milk into his tea, watching Sherlock blush slowly even as he tried to keep his face blank. John loved having something over Sherlock, absolutely adored it, and would find any excuse, any at all, to bring up what Sherlock had done and said, time and time again. Teasing Sherlock was vastly becoming his favourite pastime.

Two weeks had passed since the incident and still John teased him, and still Sherlock tried not to let it look like it bothered and embarrassed him. John’s grin widened and he strolled over to where Sherlock was bending over something on the kitchen table, some experiment he had started if only to get back at John. John eyed him and blew on his tea slowly, quirking an eyebrow when Sherlock’s mouth downturned with a twitch.

“That smells awful,” John commented.

“Hm.”

John stepped closer and made a show of glancing down at the table with a wrinkle of his nose, “I mean, it really does. Mrs. Hudson is going to kill you.”

Sherlock’s fingers twitched, “John—”

“Taking about smells,” John carried on, leaning into Sherlock and arching his neck, lifting his chin. “I bought a new cologne recently. Do you like it? Do I still smell good? You said I smelt good before, do you remember? Do I still smell good with this new scent?”

“I hate you.”

“What about my body? Is my body structure still great?” John smirked; watching Sherlock as he clenched his eyes shut and leaned his hands on the table. 

Sherlock glared at him, “How much longer is this going to go on for?”

John shrugged and took a quick sip of his tea, “Oh, I don’t know—forever?”

“I really hate you.”

“Aw, I thought you loved me?” John frowned, reaching out and brushing some fluff from Sherlock’s arm aimlessly. “I thought I completed you? Mm? Don’t I do that anymore? Am I not your heart?”

Sherlock straightened to his full height in annoyance and fidgeted, looking ready to storm off in a huff, “John…you really don’t want to keep this up.”

“Keep what up?” John asked innocently, taking another sip of his tea and pursing his lips purposely with a look of amusement. 

“Do you forget all the times you stumbled home drunk from your time at a pub with Mike?” Sherlock drawled, glancing over at John with challenge. “You said quite a number of things whilst inebriated, you know. Things I’ve kept to myself…so far…”

John felt his smile tighten and a cold rush dowse the warm pleasure he had been enjoying at Sherlock suspense, “…Did I?”

“You did.”

John squinted at Sherlock and pressed his mouth in thought, “I don’t think I did.”

“Well, you did.”

“Really?” 

“Really,” Sherlock replied with an unfurling smile.

John leaned in close to Sherlock and stared up at his face, “So…I said the types of things you said to me, then?” he asked in a murmur, watching as Sherlock’s smile tensed. “Knew it.”

Sherlock turned and stomped into the sitting room, paced back and forth shortly and then rounded on John with a sulk, “John, this isn’t fair!”

“I think it is,” John retorted smugly, leaning his hip against the table. “You always get to be arrogant and cocky, to know everything and to just breeze through life without finding anything awkward or being humiliated or compromised by anything—this is perfect revenge for all the times you’ve talked down to me or used what I’ve said or done in the past against me, and all the times you’ve embarrassed me, repeatedly. This is perfect, and I love it! Just like you love me.”

“You love me too!” Sherlock exclaimed, hands on his hips and then crossed sullenly across his chest. “You said so. I remember it. Vividly.”

“I know,” John said with a one-shouldered shrug. “I had to say something to shut you up—wait, vividly? Why so vivid? Like that did you? Liked that I said I loved you too? Hm? Do you remember the kisses vividly too?”

“Stop,” Sherlock groaned, turning to sprawl face first onto the settee in a huff. “I hate you!”

John followed him with a laugh and after taking a large gulp of tea, put his mug down and sat on Sherlock’s legs playfully, “You love me.”

“No. I’ve now decided that I don’t.” Sherlock mumbled into a pillow, tensing his legs but not removing them from under John. “Go away!”

John grinned and got up to pull Sherlock’s legs onto his lap instead, then tugged on them until Sherlock sat up with a loud exclamation of annoyance, swinging his legs away and folding his arms. John shuffled close until their shoulders and hips touched, and beamed at Sherlock’s face until Sherlock rolled his eyes and stifled a smile.

“Do you wanna kiss me again?” John asked cheekily, tapping his own cheek and tilting his head. “Come on. Give us a kiss.”

“What would you do if I actually did?” Sherlock muttered, turning his head away and crossing his legs huffily. “Stop being annoying. I get it, okay? You’ve embarrassed me to the nth degree, I now know what it’s like when I do it to you; can you stop it now?”

“No,” John giggled, nudging Sherlock’s shoulder and then leaning back, swinging his arm across the back of the sofa. “This is going to go on and on and on and on!”

“Why?” Sherlock complained, covering his face and leaning forwards on his knees. “You do realise that this won’t continue to affect me the same all the time. It’ll get boring and I’ll get used to it.”

John nodded and slapped Sherlock’s shoulder, “And until then, I’m going to enjoy myself at your expense.”

Sherlock fell back against John’s arm and glowered at him moodily, “At least keep it private? Don’t do it in front of, Lestrade. Please? Don’t give him the ammunition.”

“Ah, now, see, don’t tell me that,” John sniggered, tickling Sherlock’s nape humorously. “Now I want to do it in front of him. He’ll not know… at first, but then I’ll tell him and we’ll have a great laugh—”

“No!” Sherlock whined with an uncontrollable laugh at John’s mischievous expression. “Don’t you dare!”

“Oh, I dare,” John told him, tickling Sherlock’s neck again and then ruffling his hair idly, unable to resist the temptation and pulling on his curls.

Sherlock dropped his head back onto John’s hand and rubbed his face, “If you keep on, I’m going to…do something,” he mumbled, glancing at John from between his fingers.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like…inject you with the drug and see how you cope,” Sherlock said before lifting his head with a curling smile. “Oh! Oh, I could do that actually!”

John frowned and grabbed his shoulder, “No you bloody won’t!”

“And I could film it! Add insult to injury,” Sherlock cackled, struggling out of John’s hold and bounding for his bedroom, dodging John’s next grasping swing. “Ooh! You brought this on yourself, John! You have no one to blame but yourself!”

John scrambled after Sherlock, chasing him around his chair and through the kitchen, trying to catch up to him before he got to his bedroom but ultimately failing and falling into the door as Sherlock slammed it closed. John grabbed for the door handle and threw the door open to lunge at Sherlock and wrestle him to the ground, pinning his wrists and sitting up on him triumphantly.

“Ha!” John exclaimed breathlessly. “No you don’t!”

John’s triumph was short lived as Sherlock opened his fist to show him the vial with a grin, “You know…this still works if it gets absorbed through the skin or inhaled—hey!” Sherlock grunted, grappling with John and rolling on the floor as he tried to keep hold of the vial and fight off John at the same time. 

“I should never have let you keep some of it,” John grumbled as he reached to pry it from Sherlock’s fumbling fingers. “Give it to me!”

“No!”

“Now, Sherlock!”

“Never!”

John huffed and roughly wriggled his fingers between Sherlock’s, bending some of them back and then gripping at the vial, only realising he had hold of the cork when it popped off and the liquid contents was splashed over both of their hands. Sherlock and John both froze, and then jerked into a sitting position, both staring at their wet hands.

“Now you’ve done it! You…you idiot!” Sherlock yelled, pushing to his feet and rushing into the bathroom to wash it off.

“It’s your fault!” John replied as he followed and nudged Sherlock aside to wash his hands as well. “If you hadn’t have gone in after it—”

“You shouldn’t have teased me for so long!” Sherlock shouted with a sulk, scowling at his hands “You’re lucky that this isn’t enough to be dangerous! I can’t believe this…”

John sighed loudly and shook his head, glaring at their hands and scrubbing at them, grabbing the soap in the next moment. They both washed for another few minutes before John started to feel faintly lightheaded; he huffed and then laughed, swaying into Sherlock’s side.

“Oh…oh no,” John giggled, stumbling back and out of the bathroom. “Oh no, it’s…it’s too late I…I feel—God I feel real good.” He smiled slowly and turned to press his forehead to the wall at his back. The feeling started as a low buzzing of warmth, the same sensation John got after a few drinks, but then it spread and shuddered through him and he snorted and shivered.

Sherlock bumped into him a few seconds later and John turned to gaze up at him, “This is your fault,” Sherlock told him, tapping the end of John’s nose and then sniggering and shaking his head sluggishly. “I can’t believe you didn’t just let it go. We could have forgotten how much I love you and all would have been fine.”

“You love me a lot,” John slurred with a nod. “I’d not have been able to forget it. How could I? I like knowing you have feelings like everyone else, like me.”

Sherlock frowned and then smiled, “You do?”

“Yeah, course,” John beamed before he tried to fight against the drug and blinked roughly, struggling through into the sitting room and sitting on the settee. “How long does this last?”

“Several hours,” Sherlock answered happily, swaying and toppling over a chair and then jumping back to his feet, brushing himself down. “It takes effect almost immediately and lasts for several glorious hours—can we snuggle?”

“Yeah,” John replied with a dopey expression as he slumped back and then rubbed his face. “I mean…no…no…”

“You said yes,” Sherlock mumbled as he dropped down beside him and wrapped his arms around John’s body, nuzzling his cheek. “Friends snuggle, you know.”

John burst into uncontrollable giggles and tilted into Sherlock when he pulled him close, “We’re both going to regret so much later on…”

“Yes,” Sherlock smirked, falling back on the sofa with John in his arms. “I like your face a lot.”

“Yeah, I know,” John sighed, resting his head down on Sherlock’s chest and languidly stretching out against him with a burst of intense happiness and contentment that made him even dizzier. “I like your face a lot too.”

“We had a little more than I had the first time,” Sherlock murmured, lisping very faintly as he tipped his head back and exhaled with a dreamy grin. “We’re going to feel really drunk and high and…fantastic, in about two minutes.”

“Brilliant,” John grinned, pushing his face into Sherlock’s neck and clutching at him. “Already feel really dizzy…”

“Mm,” Sherlock hummed, stroking a clumsily hand down John’s back. “I love you. Quite a lot. Even after teasing me. Still love you. Still like your face.”

“Mm-hm,” John replied noncommittally with a satisfied expression.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback fuels me!


End file.
